Bruises
by Hoardsofcats
Summary: After almost ten years, he's back. Will Olivia let him back into her life?
1. Chapter 1

AN - Well, I thought I had moved on but then Lyricara started Landslide and my Twitter timeline became EO again and I've slowly fell off the cliff. Not sure I'll ever get over these two. This is going to be a few chapters and hopefully makes sense because I have it all planned out in my head and it's beautiful. Thank you to my beta. E, your enthusiasm for this story has me excited to continue. These characters aren't mine, they belong to Dick Wolf, sadly. I'd have a lot of fun if I did own them though. :-)

The story is named after the song by Lewis Capaldi. I heard it and I can't get over it.

0o0o0

She knew that she'd see him again one day. She hadn't heard a word from him in nine years, but had still felt, deep in her gut, that she would run into him again. When she had allowed herself to imagine the possible scenarios, she had always pictured it happening in a coffee shop, their hands bumping into each other as they reached for their cups or the same packet of sugar. Or maybe even standing on a corner, waiting for the light to change. She was certain that hearing her name fall from his lips once again would be a deafening siren, drowning out all of the city cacophony that surrounded her. And then she'd look up and there he'd be. She was never quite sure which of these were rooted in her desire and which arose from her fear. What she didn't expect was for it to be today.

She knows that he's there before she even rounds the corner of the station. Her steps abruptly stop and she is frozen on the sidewalk, not moving, hardly breathing, and-_God, she can feel him_. There's an immediate electricity running throughout her entire body. He's in front of the station, waiting for her. _ Waiting for her._ She struggles to swallow the lump in her throat and she clutches her stomach, attempting to breathe again, closing her eyes, trying to channel that one damn yoga class she took that encouraged centering yourself. She probably should have taken more than just the one class. Despite repeatedly trying to brace herself for this day, it turns out she is not prepared for it. Part of her had always believed she'd suddenly be overcome with anger, but at this moment she can only feel every single nerve in her body. Over the last few years, there was a small voice that had begun telling her that she was wrong, he'd never be back. She wants to tell that voice that her gut instinct has always been more accurate than her anxiety.

She knows she has to keep walking. She opens her eyes, shakily lets her breath out, and starts moving. She sees him before he sees her. He's sitting on the steps, elbows on his knees, holding a cup of coffee in his hands. She notices that he's slimmer than before and he has more muscle, as if this entire time that he's been gone has been spent in the gym. He's wearing jeans and a navy cotton long sleeved t-shirt. His hair is shorter-and thinner-than she's ever seen it and his cheeks are tinted with five o'clock shadow. He looks a decade older and yet she's never seen him look so calm. His worry lines have dramatically diminished and he looks like he doesn't go without at least seven hours of sleep these days.

She's within ten feet of him when his head jerks up and his gaze is immediately locked with hers. He stands, shoving one hand in his pocket and the other firmly grasping his empty coffee cup to his torso. He sways just a bit on his feet. His eyes drop down and rake back up as he takes in _all _of her and she feels that old familiar kick in her stomach.

"What are you doing here?" The words slip out of her mouth before she can stop them. He lets out a deep breath and his eyes flick to the ground and quickly back to hers.

"Kathleen's gone," he says, his eyes holding hers.

She feels overwhelmed with his presence and her mind feels cloudy. She gives her head a quick shake to help clear it and her eyes hone in on his.

"What do you mean?" She watches a subtle wave of grief pass over his face and she takes a physical step back. Her pulse picks up speed, her breathing quickens, and panic flutters in her veins as she watches him. "When?"

He breathes in. Heartbreak drapes his entire face now and his shoulders droop, like they are too heavy to carry. His lips tighten as though he has to fight to get the words out, "Two years ago."

"What happened?"

He pulls his hand out of his pocket and seeks out the handrail to steady himself and he lets out a heavy sigh. "Heroin overdose. Her friend found her and...," he clears his throat before briefly closing his eyes, "Too late for Narcan."

She feels her body moving towards him, out of instinct. She pulls him close and she feels tears falling as she settles her arms around his shoulders. Her voice breaks as she speaks, "God, Elliot. I'm so sorry."

His hands are wrapped around her waist and he tightens his hold. As he pulls back, he lets his cheek rest against hers for a brief moment before taking a step backward. There is room to breathe between them once again, but the distance isn't quite as long this time.

"Are you okay?" She immediately chides herself_. Of course he's not okay, Olivia. His daughter is dead._ But she feels herself mourning for the little girl that she had watched grow up and can't think of anything else to say.

He gives a small smile that doesn't reach his eyes before looking around. "I'm getting there. The first year was rough." His eyes once again find hers. "I'll be doing good and then I see something that reminds me of her and...," his voice breaks and his eyes begin to water. He directs his attention to the ground and she can see that he's trying to compose himself.

Her hand reaches for his shoulder before she can stop. She hasn't been able to stop herself from touching him. "Hey. Let's go get a cup of coffee, huh?" She surprises herself with the request but she's desperate to help alleviate some of the pain that's on his face. For twelve years, she had taken care of him day after day and that hasn't gone away just because he left and she hasn't fully dealt with her feelings about it. Her need to help him has not left.

He glances down at the empty cup in his hand that he has been anxiously squeezing until it has collapsed. She sees a moment of relief on his face. "I could use a refill. Where to?"

She steps to the side of him and begins walking. His footsteps immediately fall into pattern with hers as they make their way down the block.

"Same place as always. Why change a good thing?" As soon as the words leave her mouth, he casts a sidelong glance at her and then continues to walk alongside her, remaining silent the rest of the way.

0o0o0

He's sitting at a small table in the café that he hasn't stepped foot in since he left. It's not as crowded as he's seen before but there are a few people sitting around on laptops and having conversations with friends or coworkers. The sun is shining through the windows and he feels a sense of euphoria at being back with her in a place he knows so well. He watches as she pays for the drinks and steps to the left, waiting for the order to be handed to her. He uses this as his chance to take in her appearance. She's curvier than when he left. Her hair has grown longer and falls in waves. Her face has a few more lines than he remembers, but she still looks like the woman he stared across his desk at for twelve years. He lightens his gaze as she takes both cups, thanks the barista, and makes her way to their table.

"You still take it the same way?" She asks as she places the drink in front of him and slips into the seat across from him.

"Yeah," he smiles. "Thanks."

Silence hangs in the air as they look around the coffee shop, avoiding each other's eyes. He's instantly reminded of the time when she came back from Oregon and they sat in a café, much like this one, waiting for the guy they were looking for to come in. They had awkwardly glanced at each other, not knowing what to say after so long apart and he feels that same awkwardness now, as he watches her send a text on her phone before placing it face down on the table.

He sees her watch him while she takes a sip of her coffee. He watches her swallow and open her mouth before closing it. He knows she's struggling with words. "What happened with Kathleen, Elliot?"

He sighs. "She stopped taking her meds after my mom died." He pauses and sees the apology immediately form on her lips. "They, uh.. they got really close after she got in trouble and was diagnosed. Kathleen took a year off school and moved out to Jersey to stay with her and they built this incredible bond."

A small smile slides across her face. "They were a lot alike."

He begins to play with the cardboard sleeve on his cup before continuing. "Mom got sick about three years ago. It happened so quickly and she was gone before we knew it." He pauses, feeling a wave of emotion at the memory of his mother's passing. "Kathleen took it the hardest, felt like she lost her best friend. She went off her meds and…" He huffs out a breath, "She started using again."

Olivia tilts her head, remaining quiet while he recounts the most painful thing that's ever happened to him.

"We sent her to rehab. A couple of times. She'd get out and stay clean for a month or two but," his voice begins to tremble. Her hand reaches across the table and grabs his, giving a quick encouraging squeeze before he can continue. "Her friend found her with the needle still in her arm. She didn't have a chance."

He notices her eyes fill once again and he removes his hand from hers to rub down his face, trying to stop his own tears.

"I'm so sorry," she says, her eyes showing the anguish she's feeling. "How's Kathy doing?"

He sighs once again. "We divorced about a year after I left." He watches the surprise flit across her face before quickly disappearing. "When I left the squad, I, uh, was a mess. I turned into an even angrier son of a bitch than before, if that's possible. After a year, Kathy had had enough. She asked for a divorce, and this time I gave it to her. She deserved more than what I had ever given her."

"Elliot-"

He interrupts, knowing that she's going to defend his marriage. She had always been more protective of it than he ever was. "After the divorce, I got an apartment in the city and pretty much spent my time angry and drinking. When mom died, I realized how much I had missed. I hadn't spent any meaningful time with the kids in years and they started to resent me."

"I'm sure that's not true."

He smiles, self-deprecatingly. "No, they did. Hell, Kathleen threw it in my face once when we put her back in rehab. She didn't understand why she needed to be sober when I had been a 'dead beat drunk' for so long." He takes a deep breath before continuing. "I started going to therapy and anger management classes. I gave up drinking. I tried to get my family back in order, but it was too late."

"And the rest of the kids?" She asks quietly before taking another sip of coffee. "How are they doing?"

He grins. "Maureen is married to a hedge fund manager and lives in Greenwich."

"Wow."

"I know," he smirks. "Her house is bigger than I could've ever imagined. Dickie ended up joining the Army and he's been in Africa for the last five months doing system analyst work. And Liz-she became a social worker. She lives out in the Midwest and gets too involved in her cases and too attached to the kids." He makes eye contact with her. They both know what it's like to be too devoted to a job and the people who come with it.

"Eli?"

"He just turned fourteen. He stays with me on the weekends and constantly keeps me on my toes. It's been so long since I've been around a teenager, I forgot how much work they are. After losing Kathleen, we've all gotten closer. Maureen took it the hardest, but lately when they're together, it's like old times again. Kathy remarried, his name's Jeff and he's a good guy. The kids love him. After the divorce, she took a nursing position at Bellevue. She's more like her old self than I can remember." He watches a smile flit across her face and he feels that old familiar feeling in his belly. He's always loved when she smiles. "What about you? How have you been?"

She takes a deep breath before talking. "A lot has changed."

He nods. "You have a son."

Her face shows her surprise. He can tell she never anticipated that he'd have any knowledge of her life without him.

"How?" She asks. Her lips begin to form another question, but she stops as realization hits her. "Cragen. I didn't realize you two were in contact."

"Yeah. He, uh… he was a big help when I was struggling with the drinking. He mentioned that you adopted a kid. Tell me about him."

Her entire demeanor changes at the mention of her child. Her face becomes lighter and her eyes fill with affection. "His name is Noah and he's seven. I found him during a case, this beautiful baby boy that had no one, so I fostered him for a few months. And then I adopted him. He's the best thing to ever happen to me."

He's the one reaching for her hand this time. "That's incredible, Liv." He sees something flash in her eyes with the use of her nickname but it quickly disappears. "I always knew you'd be a great mother."

Her eyes dart to the table as she reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "Thank you," she says softly.

He pulls his hand back again, reaching for his cup to take a sip of the now lukewarm liquid. He knows the next question is going to push his luck but he can't help but ask. "How's work?"

He watches as she stiffens before speaking. "Elliot, what is this? What are you doing here?"

_What a loaded question, _he thinks. He's spent months preparing to see her again and he's played this conversation out in his head many times. He feels a sense of apprehension. There was once a time when he knew her better than he knew himself, but as he sits across from her now, he feels he can't get a read on her and it makes him nervous.

"I wanted to see you."

He watches as her eyes narrow a bit and he knows that she's annoyed. "It's been almost ten years, Elliot. You left."

He flinches and immediately tries to hide his reaction to her words. He had left, she's right, but he had always planned to come back. He never meant to stay away this long. Life had gotten away from him and _so_ much had happened. "I guess I just missed…. everything."

Her eyes briefly widened before narrowing again. He hears her phone chirp and watches as she flips it over to check the screen. She lets out a sigh and he knows he only has minutes left, if that.

"You have to get back?"

She nods and begins to gather up her belongings. They both stand at the same time, watching the other. "Can I call you?"

She stops buttoning up her jacket and her eyes search his face. "Elliot…"

"I know. I screwed up, Liv," he scrapes his teeth over his bottom lip. "I know that, okay? Just one phone call. An explanation. It's the least I owe you."

She picks up her cup and lifts her bag to her shoulder. They stand staring at each other for a long moment before she reaches into her bag and pulls something out. "Here. I got a new number."

He reaches over for the card and glances down. _Captain Olivia Benson._ He feels his heart beat. "Captain?"

"Yeah, well... things change." She offers up as an explanation before walking around the table and meeting him on his side. Her phone chirps again and he notices her eyes watching him before she looks at the door and back.

"If I call you, will you answer?" He asks. He needs her to know that he's desperate to have a longer conversation. He needs to explain to her why he left.

She doesn't say anything. Her eyes dart back and forth between his eyes before she begins to take a step towards the door.

"I'm going to call, Liv. Please." He tries one more time. She pauses her steps and watches him for a moment. Everything in the coffee shop seems to go silent and she remains still, running her eyes across his face.

She doesn't give a verbal answer. Instead, she gives a small nod in response to his request and then she turns and she's out the door before he can say anything else. He lets out a breath he didn't even know that he had been holding. _Please answer when I call. _He makes his way to the trashcan to throw out his cup. _Just please answer._

TBC..


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry about the delay, I've had a busy couple of weeks. Good news is that I already have the next two chapters written so there's that :) Huge thanks to everyone reading this. It's been a LONG time since I wrote anything and even longer since I shared it online. The reviews have made me smile. As always, my beta E is amazing and incredible and my life is not complete without her.

* * *

It's late and Noah is finally asleep. As she returns to the kitchen, Olivia grabs a glass and a bottle of wine. This is the first moment in almost three days that she has allowed herself to finally breathe. A seventeen-year-old girl from Tampa was found in an alley in Soho, barely alive. She'd gone missing four months ago and their leading theory was sex trafficking, though they had very little evidence pointing to that. She feels that tightness in her shoulders-the one that happens when a case isn't sitting well with her-and she pours a generous amount of wine into her glass and takes a slow, languid sip.

The news about Kathleen had shaken her. She hadn't expected it. She didn't want to believe it was true. She hadn't seen Kathleen since that day in court. Since that day she had driven to Jersey to pick up his mother so she could talk to her granddaughter. His mother. She had only met her twice, but she knows that Elliot had a rocky relationship with his mom and she knows what that's like. To bury the person who's supposed to truly understand you and love you the most, but they just-couldn't. And he had gone through their deaths alone. She can't even bring herself to picture him during this time because the thought of that much devastation on his face steals her breath.

Her phone vibrates on the countertop, right next to what remains of dinner. She reaches for it and stares at the unknown phone number that illuminates her screen. And she knows that it's him.

"Benson."

She hears his sharp intake of breath; he didn't expect her to answer. Hell, she didn't expect her to answer.

"Hey. Hi. It's me."

She can feel the smile begin without her permission. She balances the phone with her shoulder and snaps the lid on the container holding what was left of tonight's spaghetti. "What do you want, Stabler?"

He chuckles before speaking. "Can't an old friend call to talk?"

"Sure," she replies. "An old friend can. You don't." _Shit,_ she thinks. That sounded way more accusing than she had meant. She immediately feels bad, but the stress from the last couple of days has caused her so much frustration that she doesn't care too much.

"Liv…"

She takes a deep breath, her hands grasping the edge of the counter. She repeats the words from the other day. "Elliot, what is this? What is it you're looking for here?"

Her phone is silent for so long that she wonders if she should check the screen to see if they're still connected.

"I made a mistake, Olivia." His voice is low. He lets the words hang in the air for a moment before continuing. "I fucked up. I lost my shit and it cost me a lot of things."

She swallows. "Elliot…"

"I never meant to stay gone this long. I shot a kid, Liv. I couldn't get it out of my head. For a long time, every time I thought about that day…" His voice dips to something she doesn't even recognize. It's low and shaky and so, so quiet. "I wanted to eat my own gun."

Her world is spinning. Her chest is filling up with emotion as she turns in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, letting her head fall against the cabinets. Back then, she had spent so much time wondering if he was alright. She had reached out to him multiple times – calls, texts, voicemails – all had gone unreturned. Her nights had been sleepless-desperate sobs escaping her mouth after she had learned from her Captain that he had put his papers in. She eventually gave up, stopped all the calls after a couple of months, after he had never tried to get into contact with her.

After he left, she went through a period of unrest. She didn't know who she was without him. She started to question herself and everything she thought she knew. The cases didn't seem so clear anymore, everything held a grey hue as if his leaving had put a tint on her perspective. She had been angry and obstinate when Cragen had ordered her to work with Nick and Amanda. It took months before she even allowed herself to trust either one of them and even longer to consider them her friends.

Elliot leaving had shifted her world upside down. With distance, she was able to concede that they had been too close, that she had relied on him too much. She never allowed herself room to grow because she thought that as long as she had the job and him by her side, she'd be forever content. But things changed. He left, she'd learned that she was actually capable of having intimate relationships, and somehow-despite all hope having previously been lost-the universe or God or the State of New York had finally recognized her as worthy and had given her Noah. Noah had righted the axis that Elliot had left skewed and made her realize that she had been wrong all those years. She didn't need Stabler to survive. No matter what she had convinced herself in those first few nights when she was alone and sobbing and couldn't comprehend that she would ever be able to breathe again, she didn't need him. It was not _need_ that she had felt deep in her bones, filling her lungs, weighing on her shoulders, engulfing her until she couldn't see clearly. It was _want_. She didn't need him. She wanted him. She wanted him there. Every single day of her life. And the desire had been so overwhelming and consuming after he left that she couldn't even recognize it for what it was until she was holding a baby boy-her baby boy-and her heart was still beating and her lungs were still working and she knew that she would continue to live without Elliot because she didn't need him. She had all that she needed cradled against her chest.

But the thought of Elliot being in such a dark place that he thought about taking his own life, while she was getting stronger with every birthday party and every milestone and every bedtime story, fills her with an unrelenting sorrow. She hates that he went through this alone and that he hadn't trusted her enough to come to her.

"I didn't want to give up the job. I wanted to take some time, but Tucker gave me a helluva time. He wanted me to go to anger management, to see a shrink, maybe even transfer out of special victims. And you know how stubborn I can be…"

"You told him to go to hell." She knew it. She had told Cragen it's what he would do.

"Yeah," he scoffs. "I did. Shit hit the fan after that. I didn't know what to do. I hated sitting at home all day but I wasn't about to give into IAB."

She listens to his voice as she makes her way to the couch, propping her legs up underneath her and she takes another sip before placing it on the coffee table.

"Like I said, Liv. I became an angry sonuvabitch. The kids hated being around me. Hell, Eli called me 'Oscar the Grouch' until he was eight, if you can believe that. Kathy and I weren't doing so well before Jenna and whatever we had just fell apart after that. She put up with me for a year, I don't know how, but she did. And finally, on Easter, she told me that I owed her a divorce. And she was right."

"What happened to Jenna, El-it wasn't your fault."

"I know that," he sighs. "Now. It took me a really long time. It was just...hard. I knew I'd never be able to get rid of the image I had of her bleeding out in the squad room."

She thinks of the way his words seem to come easier to him. Getting him to confide in her before had been like pulling teeth; he only offered up the bare minimum and he rarely discussed his feelings. Now, his words slide from the phone to her ear like it's always been that way for them. After all this time, she's still learning new things about him.

o0o0o

"Can I ask about work now?" He keeps his voice steady, he wants to keep her on the phone as long as possible and he knows he needs to approach her with caution. He hears her sigh. "If you don't want to talk about it, we don't have to. But I'd really like it if you told me a little bit... Captain," He knows she's smiling on the other end, so he continues. "God, Liv. No one deserves it more. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you." Her voice is thick with emotion. "It's been a lot of hard work."

"You always were the best cop I knew."

He lets the compliment hang in the air of his dark living room, the glow from the muted television flickering against the walls, as if the words themselves were the decor he's been waiting to put up and finally got around to it. There are not many decorations, mostly pictures of the kids and an old drawing that Eli did of the two of them when he was in the third grade. His coffee table is about the extent of his small apartment's interior design-a heavy chunk of unfinished wood that Maureen had insisted on buying him when she ran across it at a flea market. He knows his apartment isn't much, but it's home to him and home to Eli on the weekends. He wonders what Olivia would think of it. But then, he always wonders what Olivia would think about things.

"So…," she begins, pausing for a second. "You said you went to therapy. How was that?"

He can't help the deep laugh that forms from his chest. "The first few months are exactly how you're thinking. I'm not sure if you're aware, but I wasn't really great at sharing."

"You don't say?"

He knows she's smiling again and he feels warmth rush over his skin. "It took some time, but it really helped. I've been able to let go of some things that I couldn't before, and Eli-he gets a full-time involved dad which is great for me, but probably not so much for him."

She chuckles. "He's lucky to have you, El."

_El_. He can feel that single syllable vibrate in his ear and slide down his skin until it reaches his fingertips, still buzzing.

"I'm glad it helped."

It's quiet again and he's afraid she's going to say goodbye any minute. He needs to keep her talking. "Tell me something about Noah."

"I told you about him the other day."

"I know, but tell me more. What's he like to do?"

He thinks back to Eli at that age. He had really fucked it up with his family for a while. He's lucky Kathy had even let him see the boy and honestly, he wouldn't have blamed her. He had spent his entire life trying to be the good family man that his father failed to be. But in those couple of years, he had spent every night at a bar two blocks down and whenever he looked in the mirror, he saw a glimpse of the man he had hated for far too long. He wasn't abusive like his father, but the same rage and resentment that had filled his old man had made a home on his own face.

"He's a dancer. He tried baseball for a while and didn't like it. So he switched to dancing and I gotta tell you, he's actually really good."

He smiles at the affection that fills her voice and settles further into his couch.

"He eats more ice cream than all other kids combined and he sleeps with a stuffed elephant named Eddie." Her voice pauses, as the sound of her taking a drink fills the phone. "He's such a funny little guy, El. I mean, he's genuinely funny. He's constantly making me laugh. When we found him and learned of his history, I just formed this bond with him and I'm in awe of how happy he is after having such a sad beginning. He's just… he's incredible."

He had always wanted this for her. He remembers the conversation they had while waiting for the elevator and she told him that she had tried adopting and was denied. He remembers the fiery anger that filled his gut as he heard her say that she wasn't prime parent material. He's so grateful that the system had righted it's wrong and made her a mother.

"Well, I'll tell you one thing," he smiles. "The kid hit the mom lottery."

He hears her soft laugh and decides to press his luck. "Would you want to have a drink with me next week?"

He can feel her sudden tension through the phone.

"El…"

"Well, non-alcoholic for me. I don't really drink anymore, but we can go wherever you want." Silence. He begins to panic. "It's just a drink, Liv."

"We're in the middle of a big case. I don't know when I'm going to have time."

He's willing to wait; he's not going to accept the 'too busy with work' excuse even though he knows all too well that it's usually the truth. "How 'bout this? Think about it, okay? Just think about it and let me know next week. No pressure_."_

He tries to accentuate the last two words even though he knows he'll flounder if she turns him down.

"Okay," she says after a deep breath. "I'll think about it."

He can't see her, but he knows her well enough that he's certain her eyebrows are furrowed, deep in contemplation. He lets this silence linger for a brief moment before he lowers his voice and whispers, "Goodnight, Liv."

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I hope everyone out there is safe and healthy. It's been a wild and scary couple of weeks so hopefully this brings a bit of solace to what's happening in the world. Thank you to those who have left reviews - your kindness is very appreciated. To my beta E – you know you make my world go round.

* * *

It's been over a week since he's heard from her. It's Saturday afternoon and he had been in the middle of arguing with Eli about picking up his room when he had gotten the text.

_Rudy's tonight at 9?_

He stared at the words for a few moments, smiling. He was happy she had gotten back to him. He had let himself wonder whether or not she would agree and when he saw her request to meet him at an old bar they used to frequent, he had felt a sense of hope. His stomach kicked with excitement as he had typed back his response.

_You buying?_

His reply had gone unanswered but he was okay with that. He was actually meeting up with her later.

He spent the rest of the afternoon trying to get his kid to go with him to the park to throw a football around instead of just playing the sport on a video game. He ultimately had given up; Eli had not been the least bit interested in leaving the house to bond with his old man. _C'mon, dad. Luca and I made plans for this Madden marathon and we've been waiting all week. _He had stared at his son who was sitting on the couch, with a headset around his head as he spoke with his friend through the microphone, not entirely sure what Eli was even talking about but he decided to cut his losses and let him continue his game.

He eventually settled in the kitchen, reading the newspaper before making dinner. Afterwards, he had paced back and forth in his apartment, much to his son's suspicious looks, trying to work out some of the nervous energy he felt about seeing her again.

It's now a quarter after nine and he's sitting in a booth in the back, waiting for her to arrive. He hears the door open and his eyes instantly find hers, his chest instinctually takes a deep breath at her appearance. He hasn't seen her in casual clothes in so long and she walks in wearing dark jeans and a pink sweater, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He sees her give him a small smile and then she's making her way to him.

"Hi. Sorry I'm late. I had to read Noah a second bedtime story before he would let me leave."

He smiles. "It's okay. How're you doing?"

She sits down across from him and he signals for service. "Eh, hanging in there. We finally closed out the case we were working on so I'm happy to be able to enjoy the weekend with Noah."

The server makes his way to the table and introduces himself.

"Can I get whatever beer you've got that's nonalcoholic and," he motions towards Olivia. "Whatever the lady's having."

He watches her as she glances at the drink menu. She looks so soft and calm. Her hair is pulled up and her neck is visible and he feels the need to put his hand there. She orders a glass of red wine and then she's looking at him.

"Do you have plans for the weekend?"

A grin grows across his face as she attempts small talk. As if, at one time, he hadn't wondered if they shared the same soul. "I tried to get Eli out of the apartment earlier to throw a ball around but he's sucked into a video game."

She smiles and nods. "We haven't reached that stage yet, thankfully. I know it's coming, he plays on the iPad as much as I let him."

"Games have changed a lot since Pac Man, you know that right?"

Her eyes narrow with playful annoyance. "Watch it - you're older than me."

There is a reassuring comfort that always comes easily with her. Her voice is light and he hears a hint of laughter underneath and hates that he ever tried to live without it. For so long, she had been his anchor. She kept him from going over the edge and he knows that she's all too aware of the fucked up things that are in his head but she doesn't judge him for it.

"Have you kept in touch with anyone else from the station?"

He can see the hurt in her eyes. He knows that telling her that he had kept in contact with their old Captain had hurt her but he doesn't know how to tell her she's the only one who ever mattered without her running for the door.

The waiter delivers their drinks and they sit, taking their first sips in silence.

"No," he responds. When he speaks this time, his voice has dropped volume and he wants her to understand. _Needs_ her to understand. "Just so you know, I didn't _keep_ in contact with anyone. I phoned Cragen a coupla times and he helped set me up with AA."

She focuses on the table in front of her and she gives a small nod.

"And just because I didn't keep in contact with … anyone, doesn't mean I didn't _want_ to." Her eyes rise up to land on his face and his gaze never wavers from her.

She swallows before averting her attention to one of the television screens above the bar. She sips her wine before looking at him once again. "I've gotta be honest, Elliot. I want to be angry. I've spent years pissed as hell at you for just leaving, for running away from our partnership and not even giving me a 'it was nice working with you'."

"Olivia," he interrupts.

"Twelve years. Twelve years, Elliot. And you couldn't even return one goddamn phone call."

His chest is heavy at the hurt that's written across her face. He sucks his bottom lip in his mouth, choosing his words carefully. "I didn't know how to face you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You saved my ass our entire partnership. You gave it everything you had. You saved my marriage and family multiple times. I let the job eat at me until I was a broken man, Liv. I took and I took and I never gave anything in return."

He can tell she's trying to decipher his words, her eyes are focused on him so he continues. "I half-assed everything – my marriage, the kids, our partnership. I was a selfish asshole, Olivia and it wasn't fair to anyone."

She's once again sipping from her glass. He watches as the last of the red liquid disappears between her lips and he thinks about sitting across from her in the squad room. He thinks of multiple cups of coffee, DD5s that went unfinished, her sharing her pickles with him. He thinks of sitting in the car, waiting for their perp to make an appearance, and how he would breathe in her lilac shampoo and his mind would wander to things that he had no damn right to be thinking about.

"I never blamed you, Elliot. The job was tough and you struggled with your family, but I always knew that you were doing the best that you could."

The guilt bottoms out in his stomach. She's still trying to take care of him after all this time.

"No, Olivia. I didn't. I was an absentee father. I told myself that as long as I was helping people that I was doing the right thing, but my kids needed me and I wasn't there. My wife raised four kids with very little help from me. She accepted less than anyone should ever have to. I quit the force, and yeah, of course I miss it. But I got my kids back," he sighs, taking a long drink of the fake beer he has become accustomed to. "Well, almost."

His therapist had assured him that this heavy feeling that comes with the thought of his daughter would become less suffocating as time passed. But so far, this heartache has only persisted. It's just not quite as raw anymore.

He realizes his eyes are closed and when he opens them, Olivia's staring right at him. He doesn't want her to feel sorry for him. He fucked up and lost, but she's the one who deserved _more._ "I regret how everything happened but I don't regret the outcome it gave me. I just wish it hadn't cost me so much."

She exhales and motions for the server. "I'm sorry things didn't work out with Kathy, El."

_She still doesn't get it_, he thinks. He chooses his next words carefully; he has to tread lightly or she might bolt. "I wasn't talking about Kathy, Liv." The words linger between them while he keeps his eyes focused on hers. "Kathy and I should've called it quits years ago. I let it go on for far too long and we both got hurt. What I lost... was you."

The server appears with a bottle of wine and begins refilling her glass. Elliot keeps his gaze on her and she's still looking at him even after the wine has been replenished and the guy has walked away. He notices her shallow breathing. The connection between them is beginning to border on intense when she finally breaks it; her eyes move to the television again and she's sipping her drink once more.

* * *

She's just finished her second glass of wine and he's telling her about how he's been doing private investigator work. She's grateful for the topic change because she needs a few moments to regroup. She wants to be angry at him. She told him she had been for a long time and it's true. If he came back a couple of years ago, she knows she would've told him to go to hell and wouldn't have bothered to stick around for an apology. She ponders on whether Simon and Ed have anything to do with the fact that she's feeling melancholy lately. She feels hyper aware of how fleeting life can be and how you just have to grab it and hold on so fucking tight so that it doesn't disappear.

She's scared at how comfortable she feels with him. She's already settled back in, as if no time has passed. She wants to be cautious. She feels like she's on uneven ground and she's not sure whether the next step is going to cause the world to crumble underneath her or not.

"It's mostly stalking unfaithful spouses and employees suspected of dipping in the till. But I get to make my own hours, I'm with Eli every weekend, and I don't have to worry anymore."

_Worry_. She knows exactly what he's talking about. Working Special Victims takes a piece of you that you don't ever get back. "Yeah, but you don't get to hear Fin complain about the lack of jelly donuts anymore."

He chuckles and she feels a jolt of electricity run down her spine. She's missed his laugh and after everything that's happened to him, she's just glad that he's laughing at all.

"That's true but I do get to pick the radio station in the car. Which means I've just about forgotten all the words to Glory Days."

She's the one laughing this time and she feels it deep in her gut. She hasn't laughed this hard in a while and it feels so good. "That's a damn shame."

He's laughing too and it feels old and new at the same time. She thinks about how he said he had lost her. She wonders if he had ever picked up the phone to call her or catalogued something in his head, while walking down the street because it had reminded him of her only to remember that she wasn't around to hear it.

She understands him losing control after the shooting. She's been there before, not as deep as he had been, but she knows what it's like to have guilt eat you alive. She went through new detectives, one after the other, saw Munch and Cragen retire, and that entire time she had been absolutely livid with him. He had abandoned her to pick up the pieces left in his wake and she had started to believe that maybe she didn't really know him after all.

But after hearing everything he's gone through, that anger began to dissipate. She's still hurt that he didn't reach out, but his life had turned to hell. He had been scared and he hadn't known what to do. She can't fault him for running away-because God knows she has the record for fleeing when anxious. She just wishes that he would've called, stopped by, anything.

She watches him request a glass of water from the wait staff and she hears a voice in her head. _He's reaching out now._ His water's being placed down in front of him and she finds herself reaching across the table and playing with the paper covering of the straw he's just unwrapped.

"So you spend your days now following around cheating husbands and playing Xbox? Got it."

He's laughing again and she feels a sense of pride that she's still able to elicit such a reaction out of him. She playfully tosses the paper that had been wrapped around her fingers at him. He picks it up and begins to twist it between his hands. "That's exactly what I do. Every once in a while, I hit the jackpot – I get to chase down a parolee who's jumped bail. On special days, I get my ass handed to me by Eli with a basketball. The retired life of a NYPD detective is more glamorous than it looks."

"Right," She's smirking and nodding. "So where does the extra gym time come in?"

He looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," she gestures with her hand toward him, her eyes roam across his torso. "You're huge."

She knows it's coming a second before it does. He has that look in his eyes and she's seen it dozens of times. His lips form a shit-eating grin.

"Oh yeah?"

He looks so smug and she wants to be annoyed, but she feels that familiar heat flow across her skin. She can feel her face warming and she wants to blame the wine for making her so loose lipped, but she knows it's his presence that has knocked her off her game.

She reaches up and tugs at her earlobe before she gives a small eye roll. "You're such an ass." The words slip out quietly and with a teasing tone.

His grin turns into a small smile. "I have a lot of extra time on my hands and uh, my therapist taught me to channel all of that anger and frustration into a healthier outlet. So I work out once, sometimes twice a day and I'm definitely keeping the gym around the corner from my place in business."

"You're different." The words are out before she can stop them.

"So are you."

_Touché_, she wants to say. It's strange to know so much about a person, but at the same time feel like you don't know anything. She knows she's changed in the last decade. She'd been damn near destroyed and she's worked hard to come back from that. Noah had been her saving grace and had helped save her from torment that had been inflicted on her. Her stomach sinks at the thought of having that conversation with Elliot, but she immediately pushes the thought away. She's nowhere near ready to broach that topic with him and she's not sure she ever will. Besides, it's been nice sitting with him tonight and letting herself feel like the woman she used to be.

"Tell me something that I don't know."

He's once again saved her from her own thoughts. "Like what?"

"Anything."

She tilts her head a bit as she thinks. She could say something about Noah or work but she feels like sharing a piece of herself with him. "I took cooking classes when Noah was a baby."

His face lights up. "Yeah? How'd it go?"

"Pretty good. I'm no Julia Child but I can make a mean eggplant parmigiana." He's smiling again. He seems to do that so easily now. "Your turn."

He's sporting a sly grin. "Last fall, when Dickie was home on leave, he convinced me to go out with him one night. He wanted to go to a club, but there was no way in hell that was happening, so I settled on a karaoke bar."

She feels her face lift in amusement. She already knows the answer to the question she is about to ask, his grin telling her that yes, his son was successful in getting him to perform. So she goes with her next question. "What song did you sing?"

He chews on his tongue for a moment before speaking. "Glory Days."

She's laughing again. And he joins her. Their laughter fills all the empty space of the bar and she can't remember the last time she's heard something so melodic.

She doesn't know what's going to happen in the future; if they'll ever be friends again, but she lets herself live in this moment. Over twenty years later and he's still giving her that look-the one that acknowledges he's her equal, and he'll go through hell and high water to have her back.

He's paid the tab and they're making their way out the door and onto the sidewalk when he turns to face her. "Thank you. For coming out."

"Yeah." She replies quietly. It's beginning to drizzle and the lights from the cars passing by them mix with the water droplets; a hazy, soft glow surrounding them. She takes a sharp breath and straightens her bag strap on her shoulder. "I should get going."

"Hey Liv?"

She had already begun turning to walk away, but she stops short at the sound of his voice and locks eyes with him. "Yeah?"

"I missed you so much."

She has to keep moving. She can feel the noise making its way up her throat. She has to go before it escapes. Her eyes roam his face and with a quick nod, she whispers, "Good night, El." She turns and goes and she doesn't look back. She _can't_.

TBC...


End file.
